


(there was) a

by decidingdolan



Series: grey (if only) [1]
Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, Crush, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Memories, Pre-Relationship, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidingdolan/pseuds/decidingdolan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some memories are more vivid than most. The first time Peter Parker talks to Gwen Stacy, words don't quite form themselves the way he'd like them to. [Heavy spoilers for the entire series, particularly TASM2.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	(there was) a

Some memories were more vivid than most.

Some moments echoed in his mind more than the others.

Some random occurrences proved more indelible than written appointments.

Some transient movements rooted themselves in his heart, deeper than those he captured with his camera.

Some time intervals stretched to interminable lengths and jostled others to shortened, fast paced rewinds.

Some words, rarely spoken, became parts more integral of him than his usual bank of mundane vocabulary.

Some tastes felt fresh on his tongue, recent as others were fading.

Some smiles wrangled themselves places in his thoughts, more often, more so, than those under pretence.

Some lips, the shape, the texture, the taste, existed as their own, irreplaceable from the next pair.

Some laughs, goofy or girlish giggles, replayed like broken vinyl discs, when others’ become transferable, digital binary signals.

Some voices, her low, husky tone, he could still hear without her physical presence, while others vanished, blended into busy New York streets' white noises.

Some dresses—no, not that one, not the purple dress and the mint colored coat—but the one—the very first one (of course he remembered) he talked to her in—

There was no us. No we. No joint plans. No phone numbers.

No contact. Or contacts.

Lest he passed her in the hallways.

When they sent out an email asking who'd be available to photograph all the clubs for the bulletin board, he jumped at the chance.

(Busy girl like her, she had to be in one of them, hadn’t she?)

(Fine. He'd confess that much. He did his research. She was definitely in the Science Club. Definitely.)

(Like they'd have any other _decent_ photographer to ask, anyway.)

So he'd gotten himself a photo of her. Almost. A four by six inches photo of the club, zoomed in on her, customized for his PC screen.

But (why was there a but? Why did he even try?) there was (he was close to giving up. He would. Quit. To save his life. There's a firm line, a boundary, a comfort zone he wasn't meant to cross. And he did. Great job, Parker. Well done, genius.) the burning embarrassment.

Italics. _Embarrassment._

Singular, isolated for emphasis.

He was turning away (good), camera bag all packed, coat on (it was a fucked up spring), sneakers screeching against the gym floor, when she called his name.

(Okay. Wishful thinking. Unless...)

"Hey! Wait!"

(His name didn't even begin with an H. Or a W.)

He turned back.

Her.

"You're Peter, right? Peter...Parker?"

Emergency. Call 911. Abort mission.

She knew. _She knew._

With her successfully matching a face to a name, his chances were reduced to 0.03%.

He adjusted the strip of the camera bag slung across his shoulder. "Yep. Yeah, that's me. I'm Parker. Peter. Peter Parker."

Points. He didn't screw up his own name. And she's smiling that lovely smile, so he's still in the game.

Right?

Ask her her name. Come on. As—

"Well, nice to meet you, Parker Peter (he blushed), I'm Stacy Gwen."

Oh.

He shook the outstretched hand.

"'Course, uh. Gwen Stacy, yea. I knew ya."

What?

_What was that about?_

He's never said _ya_ to anyone. Anyone but the absent, round-eye sunglasses slash vest aficionado prince of the Oscorp empire whom he hadn't seen in years.

(There were hidden definitions under "best friend." And he was still his, like it or not.)

She's speaking again, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Wanted to say thank you. I've seen your work, and they're pretty amazing."

_Quick._  
 _Panic._  
 _Reset._  
 _Apply all._  
 _Exit._  
 _Quit while not responding._

_Gateway error 505._

_Unable to locate "consciousness."_

_Warning: system overload. Read: Gwen Stacy._

He shifted weight from one foot to another. "I- you have?" His eyes widened, and she nodded.

Oh.  
 _God._

"Well they're- they're just. I mean they're nothing much. I mean. Thanks."

She flashed him another smile, radiant, lovely, like the sun.

It’s like he woke up again when she walked in through the door, no other way to describe it.

Her energy was infectious, and he was certain she's the personification of caffeine.

Except without dangers to his health.

(All the more reason to need her.)

She was turning away (good), hand giving him a little wave, blonde curls swaying in the wind, shoes clicking against the gym floor, when he called her name.

(Okay. Wishful thinking.

No wait. It _did_ happen.)

"Hey! Wait!"

(Her name began with a G. Her name began with a G, you idiot.)

She turned back.

"Gwen."

His eyes met hers.

"I was wondering if..."

Why was she staring at me? Why those adorable, heart-stopping green eyes? Why the curious, encouraging expression? Why…. _why?_

_Too many applications running at once. Restart. Restart._

"I just..."

She's nodding.

He hadn't even started and it's gone to shit.

"I was...um..."

_There's something wrong with the harddisk. Please click on this button to fix it._

"Uh just..."

_There is not enough memory to run this feature. Please reorganize and/or delete some files and try again._

"....I um...I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I should go."

She tilted her head, corner of her lips quirked up, "Okay…?"

Adorable. She's adorable and he's the massive, disappointing dork.

"I should go," he repeated, this time under his breath, "I should go."

He started stepping away, and backwards, and out.

Of her life, her world.

(For a while.)

And that was that.

Except it wasn't.

Except there was Flash Thompson. There were lockers, hallways, and Coldplay. There were branzino and rooftop rendezvous. There were chocolate houses and tears (hers, and then some of his.) There was rain. A funeral. A distance.

There was a phone call. Graduation robes. An apparently poignant valedictorian speech that he missed (the one he played for himself long into each night, just as she had promised him she would do her speech for him). A four word sentence that stung more than electric shocks. There were ice cream and nose rubbing and cute laughs.

There were lame British jokes and giant webbed signs on the Brooklyn bridge. There was him promising her something he wouldn't be able to fulfill. (Thanks to him now.)

There were police cars and sirens. Lightning and electric switches and batteries that went out of charge.

There was his best friend, intent on killing her. There were a clock tower and falling and that snap.

That godawful snap.

There were blood spilling out of her nose and closed eyes and a lack of a pulse.

There was only him, crying.

There was no her.

**Author's Note:**

> First, thank you all so much, my darlings, for stopping by, reading, leaving kudos. Lots of love <3 xx  
> (Be on the lookout for more Harry & Felicia coming soon!)
> 
> Second, and this is all I'm going to say about it: I'm more of a Peter Parker type in real life. Those who know, you know who you are.
> 
> (I had to write this. You also know I had to.)


End file.
